


Timeless

by perf_lilith



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, as the story progresses, if you are easily triggered please don't read this, you guys are lovely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perf_lilith/pseuds/perf_lilith
Summary: [a]without beginning or end; eternal; everlasting.
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Reader, Damian Wayne/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Don’t You Just Hate It When You Stumble On A Mugging?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi how's it going?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, i hope ur having a good day. If not, BAM! virtual hug~ I hope ur day gets better.

If you were being truly honest with yourself, you sometimes you hated the apartment you lived in. It was a cramped little space sandwiched between an old lady who was constantly vacuuming and a newly-wedded couple that would often have extremely loud sex seemingly every other night.

Though noisy neighbours were something that everyone had to deal with in Gotham. It was good thing that moving was on your agenda in the near future. 

You rolled onto your side, curled in your blanket while staring at the clock with bloodshot eyes. “Fuck them.” You threw your pillow over your head, trying to ignore the moans coming from upstairs. 

They wouldn’t fucking stop.

You twisted and turned until you had your head on your pillow, glaring at the ceiling as you hear something breaking. “That is fucking it.”

You rolled out of bed, heading out your apartment while struggling to pull each arm through the sleeve of your robe. You headed up the floor, angrily banging on the door to their apartment. Opening the door was young, pale looking lady who seemed to have hastily pulled on whatever was nearest to her. Her bright blue eyes scanned your sleep deprived state before asking almost too cheerfully, “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? _What is up?_ ” You pursed your lips in a pathetic attempt to stop yourself from letting out the loudest groan of frustration you have uttered in your life. “What is up, is that you and your partner have been me up till two in the _fucking morning_. Look I understand you love your partner very much, and I understand that you have particular ways of showing it, but please for the love of all things good and holy in this god-forsaken city, _please_ keep it down.”

She blinked, then gave you a sheepish look. “Are we being that loud?”

“Every other day you decide to have sex with your partner,” you responded.

“I’m really sorry you have to hear that. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Considering what she was doing before, you were tempted to turn around and leave. Instead, you simply shook your head. “I appreciate the thought, but next time just keep it down next time you and your partner deicide to have intercourse.”

After she muttered one more apology before quietly shutting the door behind her. You trudged back to your apartment and hurled yourself onto your bed and made yourself comfortable. But you quickly found out that you couldn’t get any sleep though the above neighbours had quieted down considerably. “Well fuck.”

Once more, you dragged yourself out of bed, rubbing your tired eyed. You quickly changed into a hoodie and a pair of leggings. Accepting yourself as 2012 Tumblr chick, you shut your apartment door behind you and headed to nearby diner.

The creaky old place served the best damn food and coffee in all of Gotham City.

Rolling your neck, you noticed the lack of people walking the streets and you had a pretty good guess as to where they would all be right now. A couple days ago, the Joker’s latest bomb scare and it was expected that a lot of people were terrified. Usually the days proceeding events like those, people are most likely to keep away from the streets as much as possible, or make sure that loved ones are kept close.

Having decided to take the back-alley shortcut to the diner, you turned a corner while keeping your eyes glued firmly onto your phone screen. Until you heard a cry cut through the thin silence that enveloped your street.

You trail your eyes over to the noise, seeing a young man kneeling on the ground holding his hands behind his head with look of fear plastered on his pale face. One of the lenses to his glasses had an ugly crack running through the an centre of them while an thing stream of blood tricked down from the side of his lip. 

He didn’t seem to notice you, but you cleared noticed him.

‘Keep moving (Y/N),’ you thought as you turned your back on the situation. ‘Don’t try to White Knight the situation. He shouldn’t have been out at night, especially after what happened. Not unless he knew what he was doing. It’s his fault.’

You hadn’t gotten maybe a few more steps away from the situation, until you body went into autopilot and you found yourself back in the alleyway. “Hey asshat.” 

You assessed the situation; counting two men, one with a wallet in his hand and a couple of 20s and with the other you saw the glint of a knife. You could handle the one with the knife, but slightly more dangerous case would likely be his friend.

The one with the knife examined you. “Look kid, we don’t want any trouble. Turn around and we can pretend neither of us saw you.”

“Yeah,” echoed the one holding the money.

You regretted your life choices that let you up to this moment in your life. “You both know I can’t let you do that,” you said. “Let him go.”

“Last chance kid. Get lost and you won’t have to get hurt.”

You shook your head. “No can do, buckaroo.” You dove for the arm that had the knife and jerked him towards you and proceeded to plough your elbow into his solar plexus. You place a kick down onto his calf and pushed him down.

You tugged out the drawstrings of the and quickly tied a stopper knot around his wrists.

“Okay fuck this. Hands above your head, kid.” You looked up seeing the other one holding a shiny steel firearm in his hands.

You were fucked.

He wasn’t his friend. He stood about three inches taller than you with an impassive face and with the physique that clearly wasn’t out of shape. That was when you noticed the military tattoo inked onto his arm.

You complied, raising your hands above you head. The only way to safely get out of this situation was by a miracle. You were sure you had some form of blade on your person but that would be useless in this situation; never been a knife to a gun fight, unless you're Chuck Norris. And even if it was useful, he seemed erratic and could easily over power you.

Jesus why the fuck did you involve yourse-

There was snicker and voice piped up in a mocking congratulatory tone. “What a show.” And right before your eyes there was an echoing snap and the man in front of you disappeared as quickly as you had blinked

You spun around, seeing the young man stand up and wipe the dirt of his pale pink sweater. The lens of his round glasses repaired themselves while he picked up the bills on the ground and smiled at you revealing two long sharp rows of teeth.

You felt dread wash over you. You quickly dashed in the opposite direction but the sudden grip on your forearm caused you to stay in place then proceed to be pinned harshly against the musty walls of the side alley.

“Who are you?” You managed out.

“The better question is; who _you_ are going to be.” His eyes sealed shut as he began to chant something in another language. It was unlike anything you have heard before; the deep guttural annunciation of each syllable sent shivers down you spine.

But as much as you wised to continue admiring the language, red hot pain ripped your body apart; the sensation was like being branded with a scalding hot iron at thousand times over across your body.

By the time he let go of your wrists, the pain was making you lose consciousness. You kept falling in and out of consciousness, but you managed to roll up your sleeves to assess the damage. You saw the strange black print covering your arms trailing all the way up your sleeve slowly seep into your skin and then completely vanish.

In a distant voice, he said, “Soon, darling, soon. Sleep until they come for you.”

You tried to take in every last detail of him but the pain that seared your body made black dots appear in your vision until you finally passed out.

-

“ _…wake up_.”

“ _Baby Bird, I don’t think that’s going to help them._ ”

“ _Well, what do you suggest I do? Slap them?”_

You sat up so suddenly that you nearly butted heads with someone. You rubbed your eyes, trying to get used to the sudden amount of light that entered your corneas. “The fuck?” You took in your surrounds, before noticing the two figures towering over you.

As a Gotham resident through and through, you would’ve been disappointed in yourself if you didn’t recognise who they were. “Oh,” was all you said.

“Good to see your awake,” greeted Nightwing, extending his hand to help you up. “Mind telling us what happened?”

Unintentionally you end up grabbing his forearm and hoisted yourself up. Immediately you felt blood circulate through your body and memories flood your vision. You learned two things at that moment: one, Nightwing’s suit was much less slippery that was perceived in media; and two, you are never going out at two in the morning .

“Sorry, I don’t remember,” you winced as you stood up. That one semester of stage-handing for the theatre kids was seriously paying off. You rubbed your rib cage. “Anyway, how’d you find me?”

Nightwing shook his head and nudged at the red and yellow speckled boy. “You have Robin to thank for that.”

You blinked; you had heard rumours floating here and there that the latest incarnation of Batman’s walking traffic light was known for being a bit of an asshole. But you guessed you would at least thank him; it was after-all a thankless (and slightly illegal) job he did.

“Thanks.” You stated simply, giving him an awkward smile. You could practically _hear_ him roll his eyes underneath his mask. You turn to address Nightwing, completely giving up on Robin. “Uh, what time is it?”

He shrugged. “Three-fourty something? I don’t make it a habit anymore to carry a watch around with me.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew your upstairs neighbours were still probably fucking right now and part of you that through this experience they would’ve have go to bed by now. “Thanks. I hope you I won’t see you around any time soon.

You headed out the alleyway, stumbling here and there for a more dramatic effect, before making it to the diner you had originally intended to go to.

You sat at your usual spot before ordering a cup of coffee and a New York style deep dish pizza, because if lets be real if you were going to get into a fake-mugging situation and have some weird voo-doo shit happen to you, then you were going to treat yourself with a dish best served with seven litres of greasy glory, to go.

Miranda, the waitress who had often served you whenever you showed up, commented, “You know, if you wanted to die, I hear Joker’s running a little thing downtown.”

Now something everyone must know about Miranda is that if one were to talk to her, even for a little while and could see past her witty remarks and insults; they would see an over-worked loving mother of two, struggling to pay the bills despite the several jobs she worked.

You felt drained and didn’t have the energy to respond with anything else other than a half-assed middle finger while you buried your face into the crook of your elbow.

“Good to see you too, hon.” She patted your back. “Coffee’s on the house.”

You grunted in acknowledgement before sitting up again.

It didn’t take too long for your food to arrive, but when aroma of the pizza diffused the room making your mouth water. Miranda set the pizza and coffee down in front you, before taking a seat opposite you, watching in amazement as you scarfed down the meal as quick as it came. “Wow, so Kirby really does exist,” she said after you had finished.

You burped into the back of your hand. “Excuse me and thank you.”

She played with a grey streak in her salt and pepper hair. “You’re a student, aren’t you? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

Of course you had school tomorrow, but you neither cared enough nor had the motivation to go anywhere other than your apartment in the next few hours. “How are the kids?”

A look of sadness crossed over her face; today wasn’t her day. “Sam’s Sam. I found a pack of cigs in his room the other night when he was out with his friends. And Charles? Well the guy’s seen better days, but he’s pulling through, day by day.” She shook her head, giving you a thoughtful look. “But you’re not getting away that easily. Why aren’t you going to school?”

“Because I’m a teen Miranda and all teens hate school and don’t want to do anything except leech off their parents’ money, go to parties have, sex and come back home either drunk or with a total hangover.” You fake giggled at the end to emphasize your point.

“I’m being serious, (Y/N).”

“So am I,” you responded. You noticed her disapproving look and continued, “Look, don’t worry too much about me, Miranda. I can take care of myself.”

‘Besides,’ you thought taking a sip of your coffee. ‘It’s better you don’t get involved with what I do.’

Miranda sighed. In her mind, (in a lot of ways), you were the daughter that she never had. The child she could never have but would love and care about just as much as she would her own two sons. But Miranda knew all too well that questions that (Y/N) avoided answering were likely for reason that they deemed ‘beyond her understanding’. But Miranda was nothing if not persistent. That’s how she made it thus far.

They needed to know that she cared about them.

“I know you can. But you do need to go to school.” Miranda paused for a second, looking at the curious eyed teen. “I don’t know how much you care about your social life and I know you don’t care enough about your grades, but couldn’t you at least go for me just once this month?”

You raised an eyebrow. But thought it over in the thick wall of silence her comment had provided. On hand she was correct, it was a good idea to go back to school seeing as you hadn’t gone back for a month and a half. But on the other hand, you were able to get a lot of work done while you were at home.

“Come on kid. It won’t be that bad,” Miranda said picking away at the crumbs of the pizza.

You scratched the back of your head, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Fine, I’ll go.” You didn’t fail to notice the smile creep onto Miranda’s face; it made you happy.

‘It won’t be that bad,’ you repeated to yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wowie! this is unexpected, support! Tbh, u guys can skip over this part, but like i haven't posted anything online in a while so i'm very rusty~ anyway i'm happy u guys enjoyed this.  
> Also, apologies to anyone that may have gotten triggered reading that prologue, i really just forgot to add in a trigger warning. So i have edited the tags so new people that read this won't have to worry about that. But i am pleased to say that abuse/themes of abuse is not a centralized theme in this fic.  
> Anyway, have a good day y'all~
> 
> Edit: Jesus Christ, I am a fucking moron. I apologize for the confusion in this chapter, I didn't completely edit it. To clarify, no this is not an OG character, and yes, it does get better. I apologize for the inconvenience that it may have caused newer readers, since as of writing this there's a little over 460 of you guys reading this.


	2. If the state of me wanting to jump out a window is in any way exploited to be the punchline of a joke, I will destroy you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you're doing okay. If you're not, BAM! virtual hug/high-five if you don't like people touching you.

Despite your morning alarm going off, you still somehow managed sleep through it. But you didn’t think too much of it; you were having a good day.

You showered and changed into your school uniform. Looking yourself in the mirror, you forgot how much you hated the Gotham Academy school uniform. The only thing you could praise at this point was the colour scheme.

You took pride in what you wore, and from time to would read from a blog or two to find about more about your personal style. So, when you saw the “updated” uniform for Gotham Academy, you nearly took a pair of scissors to it.

You were provided with a skirt, a white shirt made of the world’s stiffest material, and a blazer that did nothing to keep you warm.

You couldn’t tell if the lack of warmth provided by the outfit was because of stylistic choices or budget cuts; and you damn well hoped that it wasn’t because of budget cuts considering the amount of money you were paying to attend the place.

Either way, you hated it.

You switched out the skirt with a pair of black skinny jeans, the shirt with one you had from the previous year which was miles better in quality than the current one you were provided with which also looked exactly the same, and switched the blazer with a little too large brown leather letterman as the weather had been colder. You added a pair of suspenders (they came with Blake’s school uniform but let you have as he hated suspenders. You loved them with all you heart) and pair of worn out combat boots.

Looking slightly more presentable, you headed to the kitchen and made a quick breakfast while listening to the news. Nothing new, mostly just the news anchor telling people to stay at home whenever possible and what they should do when the access of the GCPD wasn’t readily available and then, the weather with Daniel.

You switched it off and checked your notifications. Some from games begging you to play them again, and the odd message here and there from Credence and Blake. You were about to put it away; it began to ring.

The caller ID showcased the name Credence. “This better be important, Credence,” you say ask you washed your bowl.

“ _Good morning to you too, y/n_. _How have you been?”_

“If this is a social call, Credence,” you warned.

 _“Wow, okay chill. Geez. I was wondering when you were coming back. I’ve got a whole_ _stack_ _of paperwork that you need to look through before they can go through,” he said._

You couldn’t really complain. You chose to stay away from school for a month and a half; this was just one of the side effects that you were going to have to deal with. “Just put them on my desk, I’ll deal with them later today.” You dried your hands and continued. “I’m leaving in a couple of minutes.”

“ _Fuck, you’re actually coming to school?_ ” Credence whistled. “ _What’s the occasion? Come to assert your ever-growing dominance?_ ”

You rolled your eyes. “Bitch, I might be. What’s it to you? Moreover, are you going to be there?”

“ _You know you sound hot when you do sound tough, but yeah sure I’ll be there._ ”

“You’re awful.” You ended the call there, running a hand through your hair. “She should be here. Not me.” You grabbed your helmet and gloves.

Yes, you rode a motorbike, no; you weren’t trying to be edgy™. You bundled yourself into your jacket, shouldered your bag before heading down to the parking lot.

You greeted Baby with a kiss on the handles (you really liked your bike, okay?) before switching on the ignition and heading to school.

For what it’s worth, Gotham Academy had some sick underground parking. You were parking your Baby next to this shitty looking Rolls-Royce when you heard someone call your name.

“There’s only one person that could possibly sound that annoying at 8 in the goddamn morning.” You greeted the person by giving them your finest middle finger.

Eve slung an arm around your neck, bringing you down a little due to her sheer body mass. “Is that how you treat your best friend that you haven’t seen in so long? You are so cold hearted.”

Eve Lewis was a mutual friend of Credence and yourself. She was tall, nearly reached six foot, worked out a lot and could probably bench press ten of you with her pinkie fingers if she wanted to. Conversely, anyone that took the time to know her knows that she wouldn’t hurt a fly if she didn’t need to. Her dark skin complimented her new undercut. 

“Yeah your point?” You asked burying your helmet into your seat before locking it.

“Aww, even after knowing me for so long?” Eve shook her head; her new navy-blue curly hair fell onto her eyes; which she pushed out of her face with her free hand. “What brings you around? I mean we heard from Credence earlier today that you were going to show up, so what’s the occasion?”

You remained silent as you rifled through your bag to make sure everything was there.

“Oh, playing the ‘cool-silent’ type card I see,” Eve giggled. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you alone, this time.”

“Where’s Credence?” You ask shouldering your bag.

Eve rolled her eyes. “Oh, that asshole? He’s made it a habit of showing up late ever since you stopped showing up every day.” She checked the time on her phone. “At least he’s consistent. Motherfucker will show up in another couple minutes. Why? Is he going to give you an update report or something?”

As long as you have know them; Eve never really liked Credence. Ever since you met the two of them, they were always at each other’s throats.

You headed to the back-gate, giving the door a harsh nudge. “Jesus, is this really what happens when I’m gone for a month and a half?” You noticed the rust gathering on the lock, likely from poor weather and making. “Well, good to see that the school hasn’t realised that their security system is shit.”

“Well, ever since you stopped showing up, they’ve been a bit lax with their upkeep,” commented Eve, yawning into her elbow.

You gave the lock a hard kick and it pathetically fell to the concrete ground. You pushed open the creaky doors and immediately a stench that you only ever associated with Gotham Academy hit you. You quickly covered your nose with the back of your sleeve. “Fuck, can’t say I’ve missed this Eve.” You noticed the large trash bins that were a few feet away from the door and had a sudden urge to throw up in your mouth.

“Thought you might be pissed. Come on, we found you a better place. You’re going to seriously love this one too.”

Even quickly caught you up on the mundane happenings that happened while you were away, leading you up one of the old towers in the west wing.

The gothic building was ridden with dust and vandalised portraits of old headmasters. You didn’t recognise any of the signatures on the graffiti, which made you wonder who had done them.

She led you up a winding staircase up to a room that you didn’t know existed and lead you to a singular door and pushes it open leading into a fairly large room. It resembled a study (or something of the sorts, it was difficult to tell with the old building. The rooms seemed to have a mind of their own when they wanted to), but somehow it was converted into something more welcoming.

Fitting the aesthetic of the room, the floor was littered with bean bags and cushions of various muted tones, emerald beer bottles littered the swept floor. Following the strange white spots on the walls, it seemed as though a lot of paintings had been taken down, but the ones that were up through were covered in some sort of paint. 

You were willing to bet good money that Constance drew a dick somewhere on one of the faces with glow-in-the-dark paint.

You noticed the bookshelves lining the walls with various novels, magazines, comic books, and right at the bottom few rows were rows of files call labelled in Credence’s neat handwriting. You noticed a white sheet stuck on the side of the shelf stating that if he saw any one of them out of place, he would personally rip their arms out of their sockets and shove both of them down their throats. And in usual Credence fashion, he ended it with a smiley.

“What do you think?” Asked Eve. “Technically, we’re not supposed to be in this wing, but this place was too cool to pass up, you know?”

You could feel a smirk grow on your face, throwing your bag down somewhere before rolling your shoulders, hearing a satisfying pop. Eve grinned and tossed you a can of beer from the mini fridge you hadn’t noticed that had nestled itself delicately in the corner of the room. “Welcome home, y/n.”

-

Damian was not having a good day; but just like his Father, he was unwilling to show it, or any other emotions today.

He had been patrolling all night with Dick, which put a hold on his early morning training session.

That was fine, he could deal with that, it wasn’t the first time it happened. Staying up all night was something that he regarded as an unfortunate fact of life, like spilt coffee, or an empty cookie jar. 

But a sudden emergency with Titus, (which turned out to be an allergic reaction to something in his dog food) had left him with less than two hours to get ready for school and go from Wayne Manor to school. And he was unwilling to let Alfred drive him; he had grown out of people doing things for him that he could do himself a long time ago.

It wasn’t too long ago that he had started school, a month, and a half ago if he wished to be accurate; but he had a particular issue with being late for anything. He made lunch from the leftovers of the dinner that Alfred made last night (“Cafeteria food is disgusting, not only with its lack of vegetarian options,” he told Alfred) and left just after saying good morning to his Father and Alfred who had returned from the Cave.

In a dishevelled mess, he drove to school, missing the infamous Gotham traffic by the skin of his teeth. He stopped by a local café to get a coffee (‘God, I’m acting like Drake _,_ ’ Damian thought taking a sip of caffeinated liquid) and arrived at school with nearly fifteen minutes to spare.

He pulled up into the undercover parking lot provided by the academy and parked next to a rather classy but unfamiliar looking XDiavel. Damian inhaled, trying to get a grip of himself. “Relax. Today is just another day,” Damian whispered to himself. 

Sighing at his pathetic attempt at pep-talk, he fixed his hair and adjusted the lapel of his blazer before stepping out of the car; tucking the car keys safely into his pocket, Damian grabbed his bag and coffee and headed up to the front entrance of the school, which was the most direct route to his locker.

But just as he entered the front gate, a body collided with him. It would have made him loose grip on the coffee, had he not been clutching onto the cup for dear life. He scowled as he watched a boy about his age quickly pick up a stack of papers. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. He paused, looking up at the youngest Wayne child, and gave him something that could only be described with a Cheshire cat like smirk. “Damian Wayne, huh? Just the person I was looking for actually.”

“What?”

The boy fished out something from the pile of papers. “I’m Credence, by the way. I’m part of the student body council and head of the social wellbeing committee. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He proceeded to hand Damian an aged envelope. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get invited to a club, this isn’t that type of story trust me. It’s just a little something I whipped up to say hello.”

To Damian, Credence was odd. A little to cheerful for Damian’s stoic taste. But something about Credence rubbed Damian the wrong way; almost as if the cheerfulness were a front for something a darker.

He quickly brushed it off as a gut feeling. Gut feelings were not a basis for fact. 

Damian simply rolled his eyes. “I don’t need-” he waved the letter, “-whatever this is.” He placed the envelope back on top of the pile of papers in Credence’s hands.

Normally, he would’ve waited until he was at home to toss it into the fireplace (can never toss anything like that into the bin, Dick will somehow manage to find it. Bloody raccoon), but today he just did not have the energy to do anything.

Credence looked genuinely hurt, but he shrugged it off with a small smile. “Aw, that’s okay. I just thought that you may want someone to talk to, seeing as you’re always hanging out by yourself so I thought you would want some company.”

Damian saw a lose leaf of paper on the ground and leaned down to pick it up, when Credence grabbed it before he could. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “they’re, like, super secret council stuff. We’ve got a lot of things planned this semester, so spoilers.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, but quickly dismissed the strange boy by walking right past him in the direction of his locker.

Now, Damian reasoned that; he wasn’t completely averse to making friends. But it hadn’t been that long since he moved into Gotham so he was still getting used to certain things that weren’t generally accepted as a custom within the League of Assassins.

The concept of friends was one of them.

He shrugged it off, deciding to deal with it later.

He headed in the direction of his locker, passing a group of girls that giggled as we walked by. ‘Great another distraction,’ he thought taking a sip of his now empty coffee and considered throwing it at the group, figuring that they’ll either throw it in the bin for him or horde it somewhere.

Damian grabbed his books, slamming his locker just in time to see Credence looking around before making sharp left turn out of sight. His Robin instincts kicked in, beckoning him to investigate, but as he was about to follow the strange boy, the bell rang.

He tsked, checking his watch. He had Mathematics first period, which he did not care for in any way; besides he was more likely to be let off easy, he could afford to be late by a little.

Damian sped-walked in the direction Credence took and saw him Credence heading a flight of stairs into the west wing.

The west wing was the least visited part of the school. Damian never fully investigated the reason, but it was something like that when the school underwent restoration, they decided to leave the west wing out because it would cost too much money and completely cordoned it off to students, (‘Bullshit since we were the ones that funded the fucking restoration, but alright,’ thought Damian.)

His eyes trailed on Credence as he headed up the flight of stairs, Damian was about to follow but stopped when he saw Credence stop in his tracks and call out, “I know you’re there, Damian,” he said in the same cheerful tone he had used earlier. “You don’t have to come out, but I know you’re there.”

‘That’s impossible,’ Damian thought holding his breath, pressing his back against the wall away from Credence’s view. A knot grew in his stomach. ‘I shouldn’t have been spotted,’ he thought.

“You know, I thought I was being really sneaky like coming up here, but I guess the jig is up, huh?” There was pause and slight shuffle that ran in Damian ears. “I know that I don’t know too much about you, but I know that you’re no boy-scout.” Credence’s voice cracked. “Sorry, but can you please not tell the teachers where I am? I’m just ditching this one period, I’m just really stressed right now and…” Credence trailed off, his shaky inhales echoing across the room. “This is the last place people would look for me, ya know?”

Damian decided that enough was enough and that he would leave the boy alone. He soundlessly walked away, deciding that he needed to be less paranoid and take a nap whenever he had the chance.

But some part of him couldn’t shake off the feeling that Credence gave him.

-

Y/n enjoyed the beer that Eve had given them. It was less than fifteen minutes before school was going to start and they knew at some point they would have to go to their classes. Eve had found herself on one of the beanbags, curled up like a cat and doing some reading for one of her classes.

You hung around the window admiring the view of the school’s private that you heard was reserved exclusively for teachers. You couldn’t feel the alcohol set in yet, but you were tempted to pop another one but decided against it.

You leaned your elbows against the window sill, the carefully blended aroma of the various flora wafted into the room creating a serene atmosphere. It the most normal you had experienced in a while.

You traced your eyes along the pathway of roses when your heart dropped to your stomach and the sensation of being branded burned into the skin on your body.

A man sat seated on one of the benches facing the window you were near. His pale wrinkled skin showcased strange black symbols that made your head burn as it bought back the memories from the earlier that morning. You were sure it was him; the man from last night.

He grinned, showcasing the two rows of pointed teeth which confirmed it and gestured for you to join him.

“Y/n!” A hand yanked your harshly back from the window, nearly fall flat on your ass. You blinked hazily, seeing the shocked and worried look on Eve’s face. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What were you thinking?”

“What are you talking about?” You got up looking out the window and saw no one. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You shot up, peering out the window, and once again felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I…I think I need to sit down.” You felt faint, but you were grateful for Eve as she helped you sit down, helping you put your head in between your legs.

The door swung open, startling you a little. You looked up, seeing Credence with a concerned look on his face. “Fuck, what happened here?”

You took in a deep breath and waved your hand dismissively. “Nothing.” You got up, much to Eve’s annoyance. “You’ve got a dopey look on your face, what’s that about?”

Credence handed you a stack of papers. “Here, meeting minutes. You will never guess who I bumped into today.”

You looked through the papers. “You’re not giving me any hints here, Credence.”

“Damian Wayne.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can explain...sorta. Lolol all jokes aside, sorry this chapter took so long to get out, tbh when i first wrote this chapter i lost all motivation half way through, and online school is bitch~~ but ya, i just wasn't satisfied with the result of the initial write of the chapter so i had to back track little with it. Which brings me to my next point; the prologue~  
> Ya so i pretty much deleted it for the same reasons, i just wasn't happy with it, like, whole sections of the prologue just didn't fit in with the narrative of the story, but dw reading the prologue or not reading the prologue won't make too much of a difference to the overall flow of the fic, just the bois that did read it know a little bit more about their role in the fic.  
> but anyway, i hope that clears things up a bit. Anyway, i hope ya'll have an amazing day/night. Take care of yourselves my lovelies
> 
> Edit: Just fixing up some things due to the fact I said that I edited it but fUCKING DIDN'T.


	3. Ghosts and Demons and whatnot do not exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, hi! It have been a while hasn’t it? I can explain, I swear, but here take this *virtual hug or highfive*. Happy reading! ( ´ ω ` )

You paused. “Damian Wayne, he’s the green-eyed kid, right? The bitch boy with an attitude?” You turned to Eve, narrowing your eyes. “Why didn’t you fill me in on that?”

Eve suddenly shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. “I just didn’t think it was important. And besides, I kept forgetting myself.”

You placed a hand on your hip, exhaling. “Maybe you were right, Credence, maybe I do need to assert my dominance. I’ll be the one to decide what’s important, Eve. I want details, from the beginning.” You shot a glance at Credence, who was already getting out his phone.

Eve straightened, placing her hands behind her back in a military like fashion. “Damian Wayne, sixteen years old. Date of birth, unknown. Damian Wayne is the biological son of Bruce Wayne. The Mother is unknown. As far as I know, he has no other biological siblings, but I recommend that you get Constance and Credence to gather some more information on that.

“Damian began attending GA a month and a half ago. So far, he has attended all his classes, and hasn’t missed a day of school since his attendance.” Eve paused, looking over to Credence who was furiously tapping away at his phone.

“He doesn’t have a change in schedule. Before school, he arrives with forty-five minutes to hour before the bell rings. He usually goes to the library, and when there is ten minutes before the bell rings, he goes to get his books from his locker and goes to his first period class.

“During breaks, he eats lunch by himself at the back of the cafeteria and is usually seen on his phone. After he eats, he will go to the library and won’t come out until there is between five to ten minutes left before the bell rings. He will then go to his locker, get his books then go to his next two periods.

“After school, he heads straight home.” Eve exhaled. “I think that’s about it. Got that all Credence?”

He nodded. “Also, backtracking to the thing about what he does before school, for some reason; he arrived like super late this morning.” He tucked his phone away into the pocket of his trousers. “Don’t ask why, I don’t know. Also, he nearly followed me up here-”

Eve shot an angry look at Credence, who simply smirked at her. “What?”

“Relax, beautiful. It was intentional. But I gotta admit, the kid’s got game. I nearly didn’t hear him,” finished Credence.

“First off all…” Began Eve.

You didn’t say anything while the two bickered. You needed to do damage control, fast. “Alright.” That immediately ceased their argument. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, Credence, make a file on the Wayne kid.”

“Already on it, good looking. I’ll make it formal by Friday,” grinned Credence.

“I want when everything that Eve mentioned, plus when Damian enrolled, siblings, and timetable,” you continued. “Also, where is Constance?”

“Constance’s at a concert,” clarified Eve. “She’s going to be back tomorrow.”

“Blake?”

“He’s at the Docks. He’ll show up around 12, with pizza,” she responded.

“Right, same old Blake then,” you said snorting slightly. “Whatever time he shows up, Credence, gather as much information as you can with him on Damian. Until I see a finished file, I don’t want anyone going anywhere near him.”

For a second, they both looked confused, until Credence spoke up. “Seriously?” Demanded Credence. “You’re shitting me, right? We could have an infinite supply of money at our fingertips. The kid’s a total fucking loner, I could have him wrapped around my pinkie finger in a matter of months. Why would you let this go?”

You softened your features, offering the angry boy a gentle smile. The wave of anger you felt from him was nothing new to you. As long as you had known him, he was prone to anger.

“I’m not saying that I’m letting this go, Credence,” you said calmly. “I’m just saying we should think-“

“It’s the same fucking thing,” he interjected.

“We should think before we act,” you finished. “It’s not a good idea to do anything without any other information.” You see him bite his lower lip in irritation. “Look, finish the file, we can both make the executive decision by the week. No later.”

“Fine, but you better keep your word,” he responded. He checked the time on his watch before letting out a frustrated sigh. “We’re about ten minutes into first period. Are you heading to any classes?”

“Probably the first and second,” responded Eve. She hadn’t spoken in a while, so her voice suddenly speaking up nearly made you jump.

You stretch. “I’m going to go grab my books after this. I’m pretty sure I’ve got Maths first period.”

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” offered Eve.

“I’m down.”

You both grabbed your bags, heading down to the direction of your lockers. Eve had her locker right next to yours which was both annoying and helpful. You opened the steel door when Eve said, “Are we going to talk about what happened back there?”

You sigh. “Look, if it’s the thing with Credence. I-“ You notice her raised eyebrow. “Oh, you’re not talking about that. It’s the other- yeah, no.”

“Fine,” she responded leaning her back on her locker. “But look, I’ve got this Aunt that leaves just near the outskirts of the Narrows-“

“This isn’t the one that talks about fairies and sniffs glue is it?” You slammed your locker shut before rolling your eyes.

“Aunt Mala does not talk about fairies,” protested Eve.

“That’s what you choose to protest against?”

“My point is, maybe you should go see her,” continued Eve. “She’s, like, scary accurate with her readings.”

You looked in all directions of the hallway before looking back at Eve. “Eve let’s get one thing clear, there is nothing wrong with me. If you want an explanation, just blame it on my lack of sleep, and hand-eye coordination. It’s been a while, I’m rusty. Although…” you trailed off.

“Although?” Urged Eve.

“It would be an interesting character to have in the peanut gallery,” you finished. “Your Aunt Mala reads futures, right? Like ‘peer-into-my-crystal-ball’ kinda crap?”

Eve shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she does. I don’t know exactly how they work though; I’ve never got one.” She noticed the smile that was beginning to grow on you face and groaned. “Don’t even think about it. Whatever it is, I am telling you now, I refuse to take part.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“I know that look.”

“Just text me the address of your Aunt’s place at some point today. Tell Credence, I’m going to be a little late today. I want to pay Aunt Mala a little visit myself.”

-

Maths was one of those classes that Damian didn’t really have to try hard in. And it was really disappointing as Maths was one of those subjects that Damian really enjoyed learning about but was ruined by his League upbringing.

Even being in an AP Maths class meant little to him in terms of learning new concepts.

Like most of the teachers that taught his subjects, Mrs. Lawson left him alone during class time and only ever talked to him after class. So sitting at the back of the class with the algebra tasks half done bored out of his wits, he began to day dream.

A rare occasion for him.

He was thinking about the patrol he had last night when the door to the classroom was opened. A person stepped in and greeted the teacher with a friendly ‘hello’.

He never really paid attention to his classmates; it was too much of a bother to try and remember the names of half the people he saved at least once. That was acquaintance enough.

This was someone he had never seen before though and someone was off about them. The first thing that drew his attention was their clothing, there was surprising coordination with the way they dressed despite not dressing according to the school uniform.The second thing he notices was their calm, almost debonair air around them, only slightly hidden by their bright smile and child-like mannerisms. The way they held themselves, their charming demeanour.

This was all too familiar to him.

Damian turned to the person next to him, a deaf girl who was chewing the end of her pencil and hadn’t notice the newcomer walk in. He tapped her on the shoulder, and signed, ‘Who is that?’ He pointed at the student.

He was thankful for the lessons in ASL that Cassandra had been giving him.

She seemed surprised and looked in the direction Damian was pointing to. ‘ _That’s (y/n)._ ’ She paused and continued. ‘ _You know sign language?_ ’

He nodded, not bothering to give further elaboration. ‘ _Why are they so late? Why is everyone so…_ ’ Damian didn’t know what the word was, so he spelt out each letter of the word _'strange'._

He could see a faint smile form on her lips. He couldn’t tell if it was from his lack of knowledge of ASL or his lack of knowledge of who this clearly important person was. ‘ _I’m guessing you don’t pay attention to gossip much, do you?_ ’

Damian decided it was the former. He shook his head, rolling his hand for her to explain.

‘ _y/n's pretty infamous around GA. Drug deals, fights, you name it, y/n's probably in the eye of the storm of it all,_ ’ she explained. The girl kept pausing in between, like the verbal equivalent of someone choosing their words very carefully. ‘ _It's_ _a bit difficult to explain in sign language. But…_ ’ The girl signed the word for missing and then pointed to y/n.

‘ _Missing? What do you-_ ’ Damian was cut short by Mrs. Lawson snapping for everyone’s attention. He noted that her face was still red, and y/n was staring at her intently.

Mrs. Lawson droned about something related to the algebra tasks that Damian didn’t really have an interest in. What did have interest in was what the girl had to say.

His mind raced with possibilities, when he could feel his phone go off in his pocket. He bit back a sigh as he checked the message. ‘ _One (1) message from Drake: We have a case; we need you here. Now.’_

‘ _Now? He wants me to come now?_ ’ Damian shook his head. ‘ _I’m getting far too invested in this. This isn’t even my problem._ ’ He began to pack his things away but paused to look at y/n, who was answering some question on the board. ‘Yet...’

-

Even though you had ridden all the way to ‘Mala’s Magical Emporium for the Extraordinary’ straight after school had ended, traffic was hell.

By itself the ride to the Narrows from Gotham Academy, with minimal traffic while taking Gotham’s main bridge, was a couple of hours. Anything less than was sure to be a disaster.

Lucky for you, you were a walking disaster.

You made a couple of stops, one for a quick caffeine fix (because God knows that any form of dinner was now but a distant dream) and a gas station.

So when you were finally able to pull up to Mala’s place, you were almost tempted to send a very angry text message to Eve.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, when you arrived, but a mannequin head with the eyes blacked out, charms, and handwritten pieces of parchment claiming to ward your house littering the front window, was probably somewhere at the back of your head but still creeped you out.

You headed through the front door, (‘Seriously, what is wrong with people and not getting good enough security for their back doors?’ You thought pulling a tarp over your bike.) and a bell rang above you head.

“This is seriously cliché,” you muttered to yourself. “What the hell does the Author want to do to me?”

To your surprise, the shop seemed bigger on the inside. No matter how far you explored the shop, you always seemed to find yourself in a new maze of dirt covered skulls and tarot cards.

“Oh, hello!” You spun around, startled by the new voice.

The first thing you noticed was that she stuck out like a sore thumb in this madhouse. You couldn’t quite pin an age on her as she had one of those ageless face that were so envied by dermatologists. She looked young though.

Short white hair was done in an Audrey Hepburn style neatly framing her face. She wore a long black shirt and striped black skirt paused neatly at her knees that was cinched at the waist by shiny leather belt.

Mala reminded of you teenage Morticia Addams if you were being honest.

She tilted her head as she examined you. “You’re new. But you’re familiar.” She suddenly clapped her hands. “Oh, you must be y/n! Eve told me you’d be arriving today. Welcome, welcome.”

You definitely should’ve left all stereotypes at the door, because Mala was not what you were expecting her to be.

“Thank you.” You looked around the shop. “This is a lovely shop you have here. How long have you had it?”

Mala laughed as you followed her through the maze that she referred to as a shop. “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. I’ve lost count really. I keep track how long I’ve owned this place by the number of artefacts you see.” She slowed down when she noticed you pausing to examine the mini sculpture of a monkey with cymbals.

It began to clap them, startling you.

“Oh, you want to be careful with that, it will do that you if you get too close or caught unaware,” said Mala absent-mindedly.

‘That thing has got to have batteries,’ you thought as you continued to follow Mala through the shop.

She paused in front of a deep purple tent with a conical top and pushed aside the heavy purple curtain. “This is my other office. The other is occupied with some other things right now. I thought about seating you there, but they can be a bit mischievous and they like to play around with their food- I mean guests.”

Inside was a plain circular table, the centrepiece was a couple of lit candles surrounding the skull of someone animal you couldn’t quite identify, but it had a rose coming out of its eyes.

‘Food? God, how much glue has this lady been sniffing?’ You bit the inside of your mouth, trying to hold back your sigh. “Apologies. I don’t know what you have planned or what Eve may have told you, but my visit to your store is strictly business.”

Mala grinned and gestured for you to take seat at the table. “I give all my guests a reading. I promise it will be short then we can move straight onto business.”

“I give all my guests a reading. I promise it will be short then we move straight onto business,” she said as she gestured for you to take a seat.

As a generally upheld opinion, you made it a point not believe in the supernatural. There was no physical proof that they existed, and all “eye-witness” accounts had no consistency to them, which is why the thought of going to a medium or psychic was never really the first thing on your to-do list. As far as physical proof went, “orb activity” and not cleaning a dusty house didn’t really do it for you. Let's not get started on magic.

Which is why, going to a self-proclaimed psychic wasn’t on the top of your bucket list. And you didn’t even have a bucket list.

As you made yourself comfortable, Mala took a seat in front of you, then let out a breath. “Have you made yourself comfortable? Let’s begin.” From somewhere, she produced a deck of black and gold lined tarot cards.

“A regular spread to begin with,” Mala muttered to herself. She pointed to three spots on the table. “Past, present, and future of y/n l/n.” She began shuffling the cards then placed three cards down on the table print facing down.

‘What’s the point in a deck of cards deciding what’s happened, happening, and going to happen in your life?’ You thought.

“Your past.” She flipped over the first card. “The Sun, reversed. The Sun represents the cherished moments in a person’s life. This upright card is associated with warmth, joy, or optimism.”

You almost laughed. 

“The Sun reversed, represents doubt and uncertainty,” she finished.

You looked at the card and then back at Mala. “I have nothing to add, but please continue.”

Mala raised an eyebrow; an amused look crossed her face. “Eve did tell me that you didn’t believe in my practices, that’s okay. We can write a few things off as fun.” She winked and looked back at the black and gold card.

“I am sensing a time in your life where you had to witness things you shouldn’t have. I’m also getting the strong feeling of losing a loved one. I can feel a strong female presence coming through this card.”

You bit down on your tongue but let her continue; but didn’t escape your notice that the room suddenly felt a lot colder then what it had been when you first entered, and you noticed one of the candle lights had blown out.

Her hand hovered over the second card before flipping it over. “The Hermit, reversed.” She muttered something under her breath and another candle blew out and you could’ve sworn up and down the animal skull shifted toward you.

Wisps of smoke rose from the candle, and you raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s the best you could do?’

She placed the card in her hand down for a moment and seemed to look around the room then fixate at you. She took a deep breath in and immediately scrunched up her nose, like she had smelled something off.

You cleared you throat. “Is something the problem?”

She didn’t speak immediately, instead she looked at the deck of cards, back at the card, and then to you. “There’s something off about you y/n.” She leaned over the table slightly, peering at a spot above your head. “Yes…” She murmured. “Something is _very_ off about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t quite follow.”

Mala placed the card back down. “The Reversed Hermit has two meaning. Foolishness, immaturity, and rashness but also withdrawal, isolation, and avoidance.”

Her pale finger traced the gold lining of the matte black card. “Your present has the latter. For some time, you withdrew, or are going to withdraw, too much an avoided what affected you the most, this card is encouraging you to become close with the people close to you once more. Or perhaps, you’ve already began that process.”

“What do you mean?”

“No more than what I say, y/n,” she responded.

You nearly wanted to throw your hands in the air. ‘ _What the hell is that supposed to mean?’_ You thought with exasperation. Though, something about the card seemed familiar, which was strange since you tended to stay away from away from magic and whatnot.

“For some odd reason, I’m also getting a male presence from this card. Two in fact.” Mala scrunched up her nose and drew another card. “The Lovers. Upright. They represent meaningful relationships, connection, and perfect harmony.”

Love had never been a big part of your life. Like any human, you had crushes on people, which you got over quickly, and on the odd occasion, people had a crush on you; but they also got over that very quickly.

‘Why am I still humouring this?’ You thought as she flipped over the last card, the print showcasing the print of a horned goat in front of a pentagram. You recognised that one from tv shows; that was The Devil.

Mala hummed thoughtfully. “I thought I suspected something. The Devil, is about ambition, but is synonymous with addiction. This card is upright, not a good omen, in any way. In your future, The Upright Devil, represents failure, and even more overpowering is the sense of impending disaster.”

“Impending disaster?” That part intrigued you.

“But that’s not all.” Mala looked up at you, and for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of gold in her eyes. “Your future is more complicated than a row of cards, Vessel.”

‘ _This is why I don’t believe in this shit,’_ you thought. “Vessel? I don’t follow.”

Mala grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.” She selected another card from the deck. “Ah, there you go. Temperance, Upright. This card in particular is difficult to understand, no matter what spread you use. But quite simply, Temperance speaks about balance and harmony. However, in relation to your previous card, not with a happy ending. But more so the ending that is the best for all parties.”

You were about to ask what that meant, when you heard the doorbell ring from front of the shop.

“Would you look at the time? I quite nearly forgot he was going to be showing up today.” Mala stood up, giving you a warm smile.

You also stood up. “Sorry, but I sat still throughout your tarot reading. Forgive my rudeness, but we agreed on a meeting, and I hope you can hold up your end of this arrangement.”

Mala smacked her forehead. “Of course. I nearly forgot. My word is my honour. We will meet again soon, you have you have my word. But I must deal with this customer, he can be quite demanding. This Saturday works for me, the shop doesn’t open until 11.”

She hurried you out of the room, just as a blonde-haired man turned the corner. “Oi, Mala…oh you had company,” he commented with a thick British drawl. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench coat, and a cigarette stuck in between his mouth. His ice blue eyes scanned you, before they darted back to Mala.

“I was just finishing up,” she responded cheerily. Mala then addressed you. “11 AM, Saturday. You have my word, y/n.”

You sighed. “It can’t be helped. Agreed. Thank you for your time.”

You headed out the front door, and around to the back where thankfully your bike wasn’t stolen and had been where you had left it earlier. You let out a groan of frustration, kicking at the wall of the building, right before pulling out your phone and called Eve.

She answered immediately. “ _y/n! How did it go with Aunt Mala?”_ You could hear the sounds of punches being thrown at a punching bag and grunts. “ _Hang on a minute. Kyle, I can see you messing with the timer. Keep your arms moving! Go! Go! Go! Sorry, yes, so how did it go?”_

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I am never taking your stupid fucking advice again,” you said and you pulled out your helmet from the seat.

“ _It went great then,”_ she said.

“Yeah, she did a three-card monte, and just when we were about to move onto the purpose of my going there, she dipped and some chain-smoking Brit showed up and fucked up everything.” You patted your pockets for your keys. “If that’s your definition of great, then yes, everything went fan- _fucking_ -tabulously.”

“ _Aunt Mala is like that. But she’s never been wrong y/n, you’ll see,”_ promised Eve. “ _Are you coming down today?”_

You groaned again, kicking up the stand to the bike then proceeding to sit on it. “Oh God, don’t even joke about that shit. Just get someone to come leave it in my mailbox by 6:30. I need a drink.”

_“I’ll get someone on that. Stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“ _Yeah, remember what I said about that file. By Friday.”_ On that you note, you ended the call, pocketing your phone then heading out of The Narrows.

-

The blonde-haired man looked at Mala. “Who was that?”

Mala draped the purple curtain behind a hook and headed back inside. “I have no idea what you mean,” she said as she put away the cards. "Come sit, old friend. The new tea blend I ordered arrived this morning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first! The user MyArgentavislove11, I’m sorry. I know I said that I would upload soon, but I didn’t. But here it is, this one is dedicated to ya~
> 
> But in all seriousness, no, I haven’t given up on this story, and I don’t think I ever will. It means a lot to me, and this story will always have a special place in my heart, just like the people that choose to spend their time reading this. 
> 
> Writing this chapter was especially difficult for me, in particular the tarot bit. I have a friend that identifies Wicca as their religion, so for their sake, I didn’t want to fuck it up; but liKE HOLY SHIT! Tarot is difficult as fuck. But also, I put so much time into it because not only does it help me and my writing, the interpretation of tarot in media can be really fucking dumb sometimes, and I don’t like it. I encourage anyone that reads this to look up tarot in their own if their interested, it’s fascinating, (yes complicated to begin with, but really fucking fascinating). Also, some of you may have picked up on this, but yes, this chapter is unedited. I try to edit if, and where I can. (＃＞＜) 
> 
> Okay, wow this is a bit long. But a couple more things. 
> 
> I know a lot of kids are going through online school, so I just wanted to say: I believe in you. I know you can write that test, I know you can work on that presentation, I believe in you, even when you can’t believe in yourself. But just as much as your grades are important, your mental health matters. Fuck what other people say, you deserve that break, because I know you’ve worked hard for it. I’m not going to give you an empty promise, but I will say that you matter, even when you don’t think you don’t; you matter to me. (´• ω •`) ♡ 
> 
> Also, I know that with BLM, everyone is outraged; and so am I. Everyone can do their part; for me, since I am unable to donate, I’m educating myself by trying to read up on as much news as I can. It’s been a bit difficult for me to do that as of late, but nonetheless I do my best. For the people going out to protest, stay safe, aND WEAR A MASK, and social distance where possible. (♡°▽°♡) 
> 
> Also, happy late Pride Month! I love you all, you are valid and matter. Whoever says otherwise can catch thESE DIGTAL FISTS ISTG- Anyway, stay safe, and have a great fucking pride. (´♡‿♡`) 
> 
> Whew, that was long, but I thought I should say that since you all matter to me. 
> 
> I love you all, my little demons and angels. Please stay safe, I’m rooting for you all, you all matter, and I am so proud of you. (≧◡≦) ♡


	4. Hello! My name is Afourteen and I was not here for the first half of the recording of this song; but, I’m just here to say, meth is bad kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! I haven't talked you in a while! How are y- Do you hear that? BAM!! *virtual hug or highfive* Hope you enjoy today's chapter.

Within ten minutes of getting Tim’s text, Damian had excused himself from Mrs. Lawson’s class (who was more than happy to let him go) and was just signing out of school. ‘ _Of all the times people wanted to get out of school, it has to be now,’_ Damian thought, irritated as the person in front of him took their sweet time signing their name on the white sheet of paper.

“Where are you headed off to?” The question was asked by a middle-aged office secretary while he was stating the reason he was leaving.

Damian had a particular dislike for this office secretary, but it also didn’t help that he wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. “Pressing business matters with my Father,” Damian responded curtly, as he placed the sleek black pen back down on the counter. “Thank you.”

Before they could say anything, Damian pulled his phone out of his pocket, pretending to have been getting call, before swiping the screen and speed walking to the school parking lot. He had dropped his bag at the back of his car and had one hand on the driver’s side door when his phone actually rang this time

“Damn it,” Damian muttered as he checked the caller ID. He answered it. “Clearly, patience is not a virtue you possess, Drake. It’s barely been ten minutes since you texted.”

Tim snorted on the other end. “ _Yeah, maybe once you start learning how to respond to my texts, you can criticise me for my lack of patience.”_

Damian rolled his eyes and was about to say in retaliation when a new voice began speaking with him. “ _I thought I said no fighting,”_ Bruce said in annoyance. “ _We have a new case Damian, and we need everyone here for this. How quickly can you get here?”_

Damian looked at the time on his watch; it was 9:07, which meant that the rush hour traffic was going to be an issue, and if it wasn’t the traffic with was going to be something related to the heinous amount of criminals that ran rampant in the city. “An hour, if traffic doesn’t get to me first.”

He could hear Bruce type something down. “ _Make it quick,”_ he said just before he ended the call.

For a moment, Damian leaned back on his seat, letting out a sharp exhale before closing his heavy lids. A knot began to form in his stomach when his mind formed the image of the newcomer; it was still freshly painted in Damian’s mind.

The confident smile played on their lips, like they knew something that no-one else in the class knew, the way their chin tilted ever so slightly upwards as if they were always looking down on whoever they talked to. And the relaxed and welcoming idiosyncrasy that unique to them despite Damian having seeing it numerous times.

But any time he tried to make anything conclusive about them, his brain hurt; and that pissed him off. This then erupted in a vicious cycle of wanting to do but unable to do.

“Fuck this,” Damian said immediately after opening his eyes. “I’m not dealing with this.”

He put his keys in the ignition and headed into Gotham rush hour traffic, in which he spent more than forty-five minutes in. By the time he got out of said rush hour traffic (making a minor stop to the café he had gone to that morning to get more coffee), it was already 10, which put him in an irritable mood. Then by the time he had come back to Wayne Manor, it was 11, which irritated him further.

(He didn’t enjoy car rides, despite learning from a young age to drive a car, Dick theorised Damian had some mild form of claustrophobia, but Damian was insistent on the fact that it wasn’t, and he just really hated traffic.

This was incorrect.)

‘ _From one stuffy place to another,’_ Damian thought as he headed down to the Cave with bag and coffee in hand.

The light fixtures that hung above him illuminated every inch of the cave, and to no surprise of his, Damian found his brothers lounging around in the Batcave occupying themselves in one way or another. His Father as well as Alfred, he noted, were not present.

Damian dropped his bag on the large table Jason sat at, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. He had pushed aside all the power tools that had been on there to make space for his feet. “Hey Little D,” he greeted without looking up from his phone. “How was school?”

“I barely did anything; can you get your feet off the table?”

Jason hummed in response but didn’t put his feet down.

Damian rolled his eyes and headed to the large monitor where twelve seconds of surveillance footage played on a loop while a pair of cloudy blue eyes examined every square inch. Damian placed the coffee mug in front of him

Tim paused and looked down at the coffee mug then back at Damian. “This is new. You didn’t lace it right?” He said while taking a sip. “This is really good.”

“It’s local, in fact I believe you pass it on the way to work,” Damian said, leaning on the chair with one hand. He took a sip once Tim put it down. “I’m thinking of taking Father some time.”

Tim hummed in response, just as Dick practically jumped onto Damian’s back, startling the boy but not making him lose balance. “You’re finally here, Little D.”

Damian unlatched Dick from his person. “So it seems. Where is Father? Or Pennyworth for that matter. And why are you in such an affectionate mood?”

“Well, first of all it’s been weeks since I’ve seen you guys, so yeah; I’m in a huggy mood. And B and Alfred are upstairs.” The sound of the elevator opening was heard, and the emergence of three familiar figures stepped into the Cave. “Correction, they’re now down here,” Dick finished. “Hey B, Damian’s here. Can we get this started now?”

Damian noted Bruce, dressed as if he had just gotten off work (which likely he had), and then Alfred who lagged behind with a cup of tea in his gloved hands and newspaper tucked under his arm, and then strangely enough John Constantine trailing behind with a cigarette in his mouth.

“What’s he doing here?” Damian demanded. He was itching get rid of the cigarette; the stench was nauseating. 

John rolled his icy eyes. “Ah, the demon brat. Why, for the love of God, did you not pull out for this one, Bruce?”

Damian scoffed. “Vulgar words. But considering that the person that I’m speaking with is the very definition of “gutter swine”, it doesn’t come as surprise.”

“Objection,” interjected Jason. “Can we get on with this? I’ve got places to be. And you-” he pointed to Constantine who dropped the cigarette onto the floor, crushed it under his heel, “-as much as I love seeing this little shit get pissed off, if you throw hands with a twelve-year-old-”

“I’m sixteen, you dick,” Damian interjected.

“I will personally tear your junk off and –”

Bruce rubbed his temples. “Enough. We all have things to do, and Damian needs to get back to school.” Everyone went silent. “Good, let’s get started.” He motioned for John to take seat.

He opted to stand, leaning onto the table Jason sat at.

Tim got up from his seat which Bruce then sat on. He pulled up a recent file with images of various people. “Exactly one week ago, this man-” Bruce hovered the mouse over a man with long brown hair and grey eyes, “- Teo Williams, vanished from his downtown apartment in central Gotham at exactly 11:04 PM.”

Bruce then pulled up surveillance footage which showed Teo in a white hoodie and pair of baggy jeans and two plastic bags in his hands. “Accounts say that he had come back from a meeting between 9 PM and 9:30. Surveillance footage shows him entering to a local convenience store at 9:39, coming out with cigarettes, one pre-packaged meal, beer-”

Jason raised an eyebrow as he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his left pocket. “Yeah, tragic. Just onto the good stuff, B.” He then turned to Constantine. “You got a light?”

John smirked, lighting Jason’s cigarette with a finger.

Tim made gagging motions while Bruce physically resisted rolling his eyes. “Teo Williams,” Tim continued getting their attentions again, “was the first victim among many more to come. Each dying at the same time, exactly one minute passed each other.”

“Maybe we’ve got a serial killer who’s obsessed with time?” Damian offered. “Maybe some was inspired by that question-marked menace.”

“Very funny,” Bruce responded. “After I left for patrol last night, Tim was the first to look at the bodies and got the coroners report. I also want him to head the case. Tim?”

Tim jumped slightly, placing the cup down on the table. “Oh, yeah. B, can you pull up the pictures? John, this is where you come in. Like, B said, I visited the morgue the victims were in and got their coroner’s report.

“Each of them seemed to have died in the exact same way. They all seemed to have died from what looks like systemic organ failure; specifically, something that looked like sepsis.”

When the images were pulled up, Damian took a good long hard look at them.

“That’s a body, right?” Asked Dick, slightly disgusted.

“Yep. That’s Teo’s, for clarification”

Daman peered closer at the body. “What’s that coming from the side of his face?” It looked like skin that had been fried in a vat of boiling hot oil.

“Getting to that,” responded Tim. “I was reading the coroner’s report that said that each of the vics died from an overdose of some type of drug that completely shut down the body’s organs. But there were no traces of any known drug type in their bodies. And liked Damian pointed out, there’s the issue of whatever that is coming out from the side of their face.”

“So, what is it?” Asked Jason

“We do. Literally? It looks like their face got burned by something. But the thing is, the placement of where it happened doesn’t resemble any burn either me or B have seen, unless all the victims were placed horizontally in a vat of acid.

“I thought that it could’ve been over exposure to UV light, but unless they all had sensitive skin, that’s also off the table. But it doesn’t fit because none of the victims have been to tanning salon, and they were killed by a human, why the hell would the killer take the time to go a tanning salon?

“So I got an ME to look at it, just to be sure that I wasn’t having a stroke or something, but the report came back that the skin cells that were located on the one side of each victims face were deteriorating, which happens due to decaying skin, but most of the vics were healthy and were in their twenties or were entering their twenties.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “So maybe the ME was wrong.”

“The ME was Lee Thompkins, Damian. I would like to say that she’s a reliable source of information,” responded Tim. “After that, I noticed something at the back of one of the vics necks. B?”

Bruce grunted, pulling up the images of the victims necks. A small black dot formed just above their shoulder blades.

“These images were taken with a UV light,” explained Tim. “I’m not sure what it is, but all records show that each of the vics didn’t have anything resembling a birthmark on their bodies. That’s why I wanted you to come down, John. Have you seen anything similar to this?”

John muttered to himself something that Jason also heard and snickered at. “Okay look, it’s bad enough that you dragged me all the way to this shithole– no offense -”

There was a chorus of ‘ _none taken’_ s from everyone, including Alfred, who had been happily reading the morning newspaper.

“When you could’ve easily asked Zatanna. But fine, I’ll bite. To answer your question, I’d probably have to take a look at the bodies myself before I can make any conclusive statements. But if I were of the top of my head, I’d have to say that many cults have rituals that have end results similar to what we’re seeing here. Case and point; the Maenads and all the followers of Dionysus.”

Tim took out a pen and scribbled something on the back of his arm. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way,” interjects Dick. “Why do you need us? You, Bruce, and John seem to have everything under control here.”

Tim sighed, leaning his back on Bruce’s chair. “Because, Dick, this could escalate much quicker initially anticipated, and if that situation is to occur we need all hands on deck. Wasting time on explaining things when we could communicated beforehand will only serve to increase damage-“

“Wow, look at you acting all Bruce,” grinned Jason. “I’m actually kinda digging it.”

“I will not hesitate to tear you a new asshole, Jay,” Tim hissed.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Damian rolled his eyes as the two began to bicker. He snapped his fingers to get their attention. “Look, as much as I love watching the two of you argue – and trust me, it’s a very enjoyable pastime – we all have places to be at the moment. So, let Tim finish before I rip someone’s head off.” Damian noticed Dick take a couples of steps back. “Jesus, this is Thanksgiving all over again,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

“Finally, something that the Hell-Spawn and I can agree on. Look, all I’m saying is we can’t waste any more time with this case. We have eleven victims already, and whatever is happening can only go on for so long before the press catch wind of it. Even Batman’s influence can extend so far.

“Because of that, I’m assigning you tasks that I narrowed down. Dick, Damian, tag team and check on the biggest drug dealers in Gotham and check for their involvement in the case. Be discrete. I want you to investigate the first five vics, see if they have any relation to drug usage.

“Jason, me, and Constantine –“

“Woah, woah, woah,” interrupted Constantine, “I didn’t agree to any of this. And even if I wanted to be a cog in your motley mob of caped crusaders, we do it my way.”

Damian noticed Tim clench his jaw. He could see his pale blue eyes run mental calculations when he finally exhaled. “Fine. We try your way, but you’re going to the morgue and you’re going to study those bodies. Clear?”

Bruce stood up. “I think that’s enough for today. Since Tim is heading this case, you’ll all be reporting to him. John, thank you for your time. Would you like to come upstairs and have drink before you leave?”

“A drink sounds lovely, Batsy,” John said with a scowl.

Bruce and Alfred excused themselves from The Cave and headed up the elevator. Constantine looked back at Tim with an expression that could only be expressed as a cross between curiosity and annoyance.

Tim let out a sigh of relief as he fell back onto the nearest chair. “I am never going to get used to doing any of this.”

Dick clapped his sibling’s shoulder. “Well I for one think you did great.”

“Thanks Dick, but Constantine…” Tim trailed off, making an obscene gesture in the direction the blond male left in. “I should’ve just contacted Zatanna.” He sat up clasping his hands together. “But it do be like that sometimes.”

Jason raised his hand. “So, what are we going to do until _‘alcoholism-in-a-trench-coat’_ up there gets his shit sorted?”

“Question the families of the other six families, if we can,” Tim responded. “Gather info. Try and cross out as many possibilities as we can until new information comes up.”

“And by new information, you mean a new body,” said Damian.

“Yeah.” Tim stopped and gave Damian a puzzled look. “You know this the first time in months that you’ve been oddly silent during a mission briefing. Anything on you mind?”

Damian shrugged. He didn’t want to tell his brothers since nothing had happened yet. ‘ _It’s just a bad feeling,’_ he told himself. Somehow that made him feel slightly better.

“School things,” he responded vaguely. “It’s nothing.” He noticed their unconvinced faces. “What more do you want me to say? It’s nothing that any of your need to concern yourselves with. I’ve been missing school because of missions and I need to catch up at some point.”

“If you say so Little D-” Began Dick.

“Refrain from calling me that.”

Dick pulled out his phone, checking the time. “Okay, I’ve got things to do the rest of the day, including work. I end at nine today, so maybe go ahead with some of the interviews and we can hit Gotham’s dealers after.”

“I’ll clear my schedule then.”

-

A rain beat down on the Gotham skyline as Damian watched, perched next to Jason’s favourite gargoyle. One foot swinging below him, as monochromatic people and colourful cars rushed by, evading and turning to get home or to shelter.

Damian had gone back to school later that day with it continuing on without too much disturbance. The incident with Credence he had chalked up to recklessness, careless and lack of sleep.

Even he made mistakes once in a blue moon.

And the mysterious newcomer that left an unsettling feeling in his stomach became nothing but a distant memory that he didn’t bother to hold onto.

After a while of Dick not showing up, he had taken it upon himself to question the families of the victims, with the blessing of Alfred, who had been keeping him company through the communicator lines.

Shortly after succeeding in not rolling his eyes during any of the interviews, he allowed himself the luxury of getting himself an ice-cream before scaling a building to people-and-car watch; an interesting pass time when there wasn’t too much happening.

He leaned his back against the limestone building, tapping on the small transparent communicator that sat comfortably in his ear. “Alfred, this is getting ridiculous, have you heard any news from Grayson?”

“ _I’m afraid not, Master Damian._ ” There was a slight pause, which made Damian raise his eyebrow. Alfred hardly ever did that unless he was about to scold him for something or say something that would surely upset Bruce. “ _Perhaps Master Damian should interview those dealers on Master Timothy’s list.”_

That made Damian sit up. He was never allowed to go on interrogations with high profile criminals without an adult (With the exception of Jason. He is no longer classified as an adult.) accompanying him. “Does Father know about this?”

_“Would I dare bring up the notion without your Father’s permission, Master Damian_.” That made a lot more sense. “ _He trusts you wouldn’t do anything that Master Richard wouldn’t do._ ”

But Damian didn’t listen to that last part. He leaped off the building, the titanium rope wrapping around the nearest lamppost, before dropping himself down on the bike he had parked near the side of the building.

There was a shuffle of papers before a comment. “ _How interesting.”_

Damian shoved his helmet on and revved up the engine, impatient to get things moving. “What do you have for me Alfred?”

“ _The address I believe is in the Narrows. I believe this area mainly has abandoned shipping containers.”_

“What’s the address?”

“ _614 Annadale Street. I’ve sent the address to your GPS. I do hope you are going to be very careful with your dealings there, Master Damian. I don’t want to have another arm to stitch up again._ ” Alfred shuddered. “ _I almost feel like Dr. Frankenstein._ _It is not pleasant.”_

There was a ‘ping’ on the GPS in front of Damian. “I don’t think you’re a college dropout or a terrible parent, Alfred. I’ll tell you when I get to the location,” Damian responded before muting the communicator.

He tore through the streets, weaving through the roads trying to avoid as much traffic as he could. The setting was coated with a blinding neon yellow and orange glow while cold wind blew against him. The Narrows weren’t that far away from where he was, ten minutes at most.

Surprisingly the address was not the shipping containers themselves, but an office close to the location of the containers. It was off to the side of a series of rundown apartment buildings that looked older than Alfred was.

Damian parked the bike behind one of the older buildings that smelled like cocaine and office supplies. He took the helmet off, trying not to breath in the nicotine filled air and switched his communicator back on. “I’m here, which one of these godforsaken buildings am I going into?”

“ _Further up, and the first two story building to your right. Do be careful, Master Damian. I would really rather not have to stitch something of yours up, especially seeing as you have school tomorrow.”_

“You have too little faith with me, Alfred,” Damian reassured. 

“ _Which in your case is completely understandable,”_ Alfred chimed.

Damian rolled his eyes, sticking to the usual routine of staying in the shadows. Despite being one of the most underdeveloped areas in Gotham, he still caught sight of security cameras in less populated areas. In such cases, Damian decided to stick to the shadows.

The farther he moved, the more he noticed how eerily it was becoming. On in his frequent visits to The Narrows, he would see at least one person (dead or alive) on the streets somewhere, but there was nothing; even the wind was silent.

Sneaking around to the back of the building, which he soon learned was a diner, he was about to break the lock to the back door when Alfred spoke up. “ _I should mention Master Damian that I’m seeing multiple heat signatures inside the room you’re about to enter.”_

Damian broke the lock. “Well, looks like I’m on the right track them.”

Upon entering the diner, Damian was suddenly thankful for many things, but mainly he was thankful that there wasn’t anything that was aging in the kitchen. It was the one fault the League of Assassins was never able to cut off, Damian’s sensitivity to strong smells. 

Moving further into the kitchen, Damian was beginning to hear two voices. One was distinctly very deep, with a light accent to it, but the other one was too quiet for Damian to hear from where he was.

Damian found himself behind crouched down behind the counter, listening to the conversation. He noticed two men standing next one man dressed in plain grey suit, a smile playing on his lips

“You know, when I was expecting to talk to the boss of your little organisation, I didn’t think they’d send me a child.” He was the one with the accent.

“Me neither,” the second voice responded.

It hit Damian in the gut; he knew that voice. Slowly, he raised his head above the counter, seeing the calm, collected face of Credence. He sat in front of the man; a small stack of papers and a bouquet of foxglove and geraniums next to him, his fingers twirling the barrel of a sleek black fountain pen. 

“I have to apologise for the inconvenience, Mr. Burke. I’m aware you were meant to be meeting my employer, but they unfortunately have another meeting on at the moment so they asked me to go instead.”

Credence pushed the bouquet towards Burke, which the two men immediately took. “A present from my employer.”

‘Mr. Burke?’ Damian had never heard of him, and he had practically memorised the name of every known drug dealer in Gotham, but this? This was new.

“Call me Julian,” the man responded.

“Credence, pleasure.” He tapped on the end of the pen against the stack of papers next to him. “From what I understand, you and my employer were in the process of finalising a deal? Our services, in exchange we get sixty percent from the profit made from this venture.”

“Sixty?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “I believe we agreed on fifty.”

It didn’t escape Damian’s notice the small quirk of Credence’s lips as he leaned closer to Burke’s face. “Mr. Burke, how new are you to this city?” For a moment there was a curious look on Burke’s face. “Humour me.”

“I’ve been in here for a little over six months.”

“We’ve been here for more than that.” Credence paused. “Look Mr. Julian, we know this city like we know the back of our hands. We reach places you can’t reach and more importantly we are your target demographic for Devil’s Tongue. Right now, you need our help. All we ask for is a larger cut for your profits.”

“What’s stopping me from going to your greats?”

“What could you offer them?” Credence shot back. Damian noticed Julian’s grip on the back of the seats tighten. “This is a harsh city, Mr. Julian. I learned that the hard way. Unless you have something interesting enough to offer them, there’s a greater chance of you ending up dead on the banks of the river. If it were me, I wouldn’t take my chances. But let’s say you do have something interesting to offer, they’re difficult people to get a hold off, and they don’t like it when people make noise on their turfs.”

Credence pushed the stack of papers towards him and then the fountain pen. “I know my employer drives a hard bargain, but we also have to take care of our own, I’m sure you understand. But I think it would be in the best interests for the both of us to sign.”

Julian looked at the contract then back at Credence. “Fine.” He unscrewed the cap and signed.

Credence took the papers, waving them slightly. “It was a please doing business with you, Mr. Julian. Now I would like to apologise to bring this up, but please believe me when I didn’t realise it until now, but would our special guest like to come out now?”

The two men that stood behind Julian produced two guns, aimed directly at the kitchen. Damian weighted his options and stood up. ‘I refuse for this to be the place I die,’ he thought raising his hands above his head slowly walking out of the kitchen. 

“I truly am sorry, Mr. Julian, but I was not aware of this recent development until now. I hope this doesn’t sour our deal,” Credence said, putting the stack of papers into a bag. “You have our contact info. Feel free to get in touch with us any time.”

And just like that, Damian watched as Credence calmly walked out of the diner. He would have to deal with him later but right now he more important things to deal with.

It was a three to one, if Damian factored in Burke.

He liked those odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, hi? I see it's been a while. We're out of quarantine, which is fun, but unfortunately it's also exam season which is fucking sucky. I can slowly start to feel my mental health deteriorating, bUT ThAt's okAy We'rE ThrIvING hahAHAHa- I literally want to fucking die lmao.   
> Anyway, that's enough from me. I hope ya'll are doing great, or better than me atm. 
> 
> if you haven't heard it today, I love you, I hope you feel better soon, you're an amazing person, i believe in you, and I will cherish you; even thought I don't know who you are. 
> 
> Okay so here's something, you know the line “Damian shrugged. He didn’t….” (control f, and copy past that sentence, it should be like the first one) included the word brothers, which happened to be a spelling error. And I do most of my editing on a Microsoft word document so I click in the word and one of the fucking options was to change it to brethren. So I shit you not, I was laughing my ass off at the thought of Damian referring to the other Bat!children as “Brethren” like:  
> Damian, age 8: Come brethren!  
> All the Bat!Children: pls stop. Call us anything else but that.  
> Also I know that canonically, Damian and Tim h a t e d each other’s guts, but I feel that as both of them grow up they’ll start to tolerate each other more, but that doesn’t mean to say they won’t have their fair share of arguments whenever they’re near each other. I believe that characters no matter how harshly they act towards their siblings will always have room for development, for better or for worse. I chose better mostly because I want to see actual sibling representation with the boys jkjk. 
> 
> Uhhh, what do I feel like talking about today? Oh I know!! This is more of a question, but do ya'll find it weird when I say cheesy shit like 'i love you' or 'i believe in you'? If you feel comfortable sharing, comment, if not that's okay too. For me personally, I came to a very sad realisation that romance fucking sucks; and it's pretty fucking ironic considering the genre that this fic is. This is gonna get slightly personal, but I didn't grow up in the greatest environment; I was taught love is a weapon and people have, can, and will use against me as a means to an end. No matter how much I poured out, I never really got much in return, if anything at all. Due to my environment, my perception of love is fucky, to say the least, but recently I started learning that love doesn't have to be that. The person that helped taught me told me that love isn't a weapon, it's not violent, it's not scary, and most importantly: it's not meant to hurt you. Now, even I struggle with that concept, but it does make sense, ya know? The person in question most definitely didn't teach me how to love, I knew how to do that from the start but after a while I choose to build up walls to avoid being hurt because it happened so much, but the slowly (and I mean slowly) they helped me take down that huge brick wall and helped me learn to love again. And it's not just love in the traditional sense wherein a person loves another person, but I’m learning to find love in the smallest of things, like the other day, I was home alone and if I was being honest I was feeling fucking shit about my exams, so I decided to take a walk, and I found love there. I found love walking down that highway, I found love feeling the breeze against my skin, I found love seeing this cool ass rock that was just vibin’ on a sidewalk. By no means does this mean I'm a-okay and all my problems are solved, in fact today, as of posting this I have been stressed, lost sleep, and have been falling back into my caffeine addiction, but for me, things like that walk help keep me sane; even if it is in a really small way. And its also important to me that the readers that read this fic understand that there's always someone that's there for them, even if they're on the other side of the universe. I love you, even if you don’t think anybody does, even if you don’t love yourself, I love you, I will always love you.   
> I think that’s me for today. Tell me if you like having small discussion like these, I want to start doing it more frequently seeing as I don’t post very often and I want to get to know yall better. If you want, leave me topic discussions to talk about next time I post. Feel free to give constructive criticism (be warned I will cry jkjk) and point out any mistakes.   
> I love you all, stay safe, put your masks on, love each other (but feel free to punch people too if they piss you off enough) and ya.   
> Byeee!!


	5. Chapter 5: Meeting new people is great, unless you’re either Damian or Credence in which case due to the imminent threat of murder; it is not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch!! im alive.  
> I have something for you *virtual hug/high-five*  
> Happy reading 🖤

Needless to say, Damian was having the time of his life beating up the thugs, until he got shot that is.

The bullet dug and lodged itself painfully into his side, and while he had received pain much worse when he was younger and in his earlier stages taking up the Robin mantle, he considered himself lucky that it didn’t hurt as much he predicted it would, thought it still stung like a bitch.

(Yes. Saying some of this out loud is even more depressing than reading it.)

It had rattled him long enough for Burke to make a dashing escape out the front door, tripping on thin air as he slammed the door behind him.

But for a split second as he was about to finish off one of the bodyguards, Alfred’s words washed over him. “Ah, fuck,” he said, before grabbing the automatic from the bodyguard using the butt of it to knock him out.

Not too soon after Damian had taken care of the bodyguards, Dick had arrived on the scene.

Damian had already made himself comfortable on one of the tables, with the bodyguards tied to wooden chairs as he slowly plucked out strands of hair from one. He had found immense joy in feeding them strands of their own hair.

Dick, as much as he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t funny, found it very funny. After he finished calling the incident in, he turned to Damian. “Just finished calling this in. Did you interrogate them?”

He nodded, placing another strand on the man’s trembling tongue. “I finished a while ago. They know nothing, but I’m sure their employer likely does; ever heard of the name Julian Burke?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. I’m guess he’s new?”

Damian clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow it. “That’s the presumption at this point. I asked these cretins about our case, but they’re just hired help, ie. they know jackshit.”

“Well, that’s helpful. Anyway, we should make ourselves scare, GCPD is gonna show up soon,” Dick responded. 

Damian looked at Dick with a frown, as his hands feed with another strand to the bodyguard. He looked back at the man, who had tears running down the sides of his face.

He must have had an intense gag reflex.

“Tch. This was getting boring anyway.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What would you have done if you had gotten bored and I wasn’t there?” He noticed the smirk that tugged on the corner of his baby brother’s lips. “You know what, there are some things that are best left unknown.”

“That’s a good call, Nightwing. What took you so long?” Damian asked, wiping the extra hair strands from his gloves.

“Where’d you get the blood from?” He countered, heading back out the way he had come in.

Damian shrugged. It beginning to hurt to move, but he could manage until he got home. “It’s not mine, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Dick dug his finger into Damian’s injury.

Damian tore some skin off his lip, and then responded with a deadpan expression, “Ow.” He swatted Dick’s finger away from him. “Okay, some of it is mine.”

“Alfred’s going to have your neck.”

“I’ll clean it up myself,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Why are you so late?”

“I ran into some trouble on the way here.” Dick shuddered as he grabbed his helmet. “Seriously, you kids are vicious. You know one of the insulted my suit?”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows. “I would too. Who were they? What happened?”

Dick shrugged, shoving his helmet over his head. “No clue, but they looked like regular rich kids after a killer party, I’m pretty sure one of them was crossfaded. I think I saw some logo, but since I was rushing to get here so I didn’t really catch what it was. Why do you ask?”

“Strange,” he responded, clicking his helmet into place. He kicked up the stand and mounted the bike. “That anyone would want to be out after the stunt Joker pulled. You’d think they’d have the common sense to stay at home, or at least stay away from the Narrows of all places.”

‘You’d think I’d have the common sense to tell my brother the whole truth about what happened here,’ Damian thought. ‘I doubt they would be bothered by it, it doesn’t pertain to the investigation anyway. It would just be a nuisance. Even still, I should look into it on my own time.’

“I don’t know, man. I know there are loads of parties that happen at places like the Narrows that happen for the aesthetic appeal of it.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea though,” Damian pointed out. “Just because the threat is neutralized doesn’t mean that its still safe for people to be outside like that.”

“Fair point, but you forget, teenagers are the epitome of sensibility and responsibility.” Dick mounted his bike. “Let’s go home and get you patched up, baby bird. Then we can have some ice-cream. How do you feel about mint chocolate chip?”

“I’d rather swallow toothpaste.”

-

For Credence, something about the smell of alcohol and burning cigarettes made his throat clench and his stomach tie itself in knots. Maybe it was the taste and the smell that he could never find himself getting accustomed to. Or more likely, he hated it by association of what it meant to him.

He swung the door open to their hideaway and was greeted with blacklight and Halloween decorations littering the room. ‘How do you even get this shit?’ He thought shoving aside sets of streamers to make room for the signed documents. ‘July barely even started.’

Through the blacklight, he spotted (Y/N) with their hands tied behind their back with a tie kneeling in front of a box of what he could only assume was full of water and apples, while Eve and the twins cheered then on.

“You bitchass motherfucking piece of shit,” he growled, accusatorily.

(Y/N) looked up at him, which made him notice the glow-in-the-dark designs on their face. Blake must have done them. “Thank you and hello to you too, Credence.”

“You said you had a meeting.”

“I did! Eve and Constance can vouch for me, they were there. It just ended early. You know, I was talking about becoming a priest earlier this evening. The way I get confession is truly divine.”

Credence was tempted to throw a book at (Y/N) but spared the thought since violence was a cardinal no-no. “You are an asswipe.”

They slipped their hands out of the knot and threw a can in Credence’s direction, who fumbled to catch it.

He read the label. “Ultra,” he commented before setting it next to the documents. “You’re a villain after my own heart.”

“You know I try, babyboy.” They got up, wiping off some white substance that stained the knees and thighs of their jeans. “I’ll be back, I have to take care of something with Credence.” They grabbed him by the shoulder as they headed out the door.

Shoving Credence outside, they shut the door lightly before reclining their back on it. “How south did that meeting go?”

Credence knew that voice. That same voice, with its cold edge to it, cut through his anxiety. It forced him to look up at (Y/N), his boss. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply.

“Oh, where do I even begin to start? Oh, I know, how about the fact the meeting place was changed from the well-lighted private nightclub room to a dingy abandoned pizza place in the Narrows? How about the fact I had to convince that scumbag we needed to funnel sixty percent of his profits into our bank accounts? No, I know. The pièce de resistance of this entire debacle, I nearly got shot.”

The memory made him suffocate and want to claw at his throat open.

At first (Y/N) didn’t say anything. They stared at the ground in contemplation. “How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I just heard someone coming in, I didn’t know who it was. Turned out it was our favorite walking traffic light.”

“Okay,” they responded.

For split second, Credence felt like doing some very unsavory things to his boss. But he didn’t have the upper body strength to do that. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s all you have to say to me?”

(Y/N) looked at him. “What do you want me to say, Credence?”

“How about telling me why you put me on the field even though you told me, - you promised me -, that you wouldn’t?” He snapped.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, Credence. I didn’t know it would turn out the way it did. It was meant to be an open-shut closure. I wasn’t aware you were going to be put on the front line,” they responded.

Credence didn’t let their nonchalance go unnoticed. At that moment he felt like an abused dog cowering in front of their owner. It made him red with rage.

But somehow, “I don’t want this shit happening again, (L/N). I can’t deal with it. Stop acting like a self-centered prick,” was all he could muster out before he pushed (Y/N) from the door and entered.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ever say what was on his mind. The words caught in his throat and all he could do was mutter a ‘whatever, fuck this’ and leave.

When he was inside, he was greeted with Constance throwing a face mask at him. “Let’s not make throwing things at me when I into a room a recurring thing, please,” he says looking at the mask.

He noticed Eve scrolling through their phone with a familiar glint in her eyes. Credence did not like where this was going.

“No promises,” Constance said as she placed her own mask over her face. “We’re bored and we want to have some fun. And you, you stick in the mud of a boy, are going to join us.”

Credence in general wasn’t one for going outside, he preferred to stay at home. But right now, all he felt like doing was dunking his face in that box and staying like that for the rest of the night. “I don’t know, I feel tired.”

Constance stared at him, making Credence shift slightly away from her.

She was beautiful, he was certain of that. She had a small frame and delicate features that fit well with her Asian-American features. Her black hair was perfectly curled and cascaded down her shoulders.

If someone were to see Constance for the first time, Credence was sure they would see the most beautiful person in the universe. Coincidentally, she was the only person he knew in real life that had been stopped for their number.

But, for as long and Credence had known her, there was always an emptiness in Constance’s dark eyes. He felt as though he was staring into a deep endless and empty void; he feared that if he stared too long, he would start to go insane. 

She was like a Lovecraftian horror wrapped in the body of a teenager.

She cracked a smile, reaching next to him the energy drink (Y/N) had thrown him earlier. “I couldn’t tempt you with deep dish pizza and Miranda’s Diner, can I?” She asked, cracking it open before taking a sip.

Now that was an offer he couldn’t resist; he loved the food at Miranda’s Diner. The greasy deep-dish pizza gave him hope that better days were on the horizon. “I guess you can, beautiful,” he said ruffling her hair. “You’re paying though.”

This earned him a light punch to the forearm that he was sure was going to bruise later. “Hey, dickhead, you’re the rich one here. Pay for your own shit.”

“You offered-”

“Wait. Hold up.” Blake’s quiet voice interrupted the conversation, startling Credence slightly. “Has anyone seen where (Y/N) went? I thought they would come back in with Credence.”

Blake was similar to his older sister. His short black hair was cut into a low fade and multiple piercings adorned his ears. His smaller frame seemed to be even smaller with his thick jacket. 

However unlike his sister, who had a loud personality: he was a quiet as a church mouse and on a good day wouldn't even talk to anyone but Constance. But on any other day, he would speak to everyone else in less than fifteen words. 

“I’m not sure-” Credence began only to be interrupted by the door dramatically flying opening. “Oh boy, speak of the devil.”

(Y/N) waltzed in. “You summoned me?” They waggled their eyebrows.

“And how long have you been waiting to do that?” Asked Constance.

“That’s none of your fucking business. But honestly, do you expect anything else? I am and always will be that bitch. So, what’s cooking goo looking? What are we doing?”

“We’re gonna paint the town red,” Eve said with a grin. “Who’s up for a little arts and crafts at Gotham Station?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this awkward. It kind feels like you've run into a failed Tinder date. 
> 
> But in my defence, I have been really tired lately, exams really kicked my ass last month. And then this month my grade results came out, which I hate. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love learning. I think learning is really fun and I love it to bits, but I just hate school. In my experience, school is rather mechanical and robotic, and as a student, I tend to ask a lot of questions which usually remain unanswered due to this nature. BUT, don't drop out of school just because of this. Not condoning that. But if you do plan on dropping out, make sure you have your future thought out. I don't anything bad to happen to you, okay?
> 
> Mhmmm. So what are you guys up to these days? I hope yall are doing well and aren't too stressed from what's happening. I know I'm a bit to say this, but for all of yall you had exams and hated the grades you got back, but I hope you know that your grades don't determine your worth as a person. I likely am in no position to say that, but I honestly believe that every single of you reading this fic deserves a good future. Yes, I don't deny that your grades are important, they are. But I have a few friends, including myself, at the moment that get really stressed from their grades. I guess the one thing I have to say is: I'll always be cheering for you. Your grades determine your future but they don't determine your worth as an individual. You're worth is so much more than that, and I truly believe that. Work hard and take care of yourself. You're only human after all. And when you need it, ask for help. It's okay to do that, and I know its difficult to do so, but I believe in you.
> 
> Anyway, I love you. Stay safe, be kind. （＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ

**Author's Note:**

> okay pls be gentle with me, this is my first time posting here.  
> If this sounds shit, please bare with me it does get better, (I think).  
> Anyway, I hope ya'll are doing okay.


End file.
